


the calm

by julesmpm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I wish them all the happiness, Post 8x2, Spoilers for Episode 8x2, gendry and arya really make me feel some sort of way, post forge-sex, pre battle of winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesmpm/pseuds/julesmpm
Summary: People live. People love. People die.She knows this.But this, this is different.This time, she is terrified.(When Gendry sleeps and Arya cannot)





	the calm

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this has actually been in my drafts since last week's episode, and so I wrote this before knowing the outcome of the Battle of Winterfell (!!!). Like so many others, I just needed to write my thoughts down because for some reason, Arya and Gendry have really struck a chord in me. Lots more works with these two to come, I think!

She’s been through countless battles, seen death after death, felt the pain of a million daggers. The past has not been kind to Arya Stark, and she wears the protective shell she has gained like armour across her chest. She’s learned to distance herself from emotion, knows that holding things so close to one’s heart can become one’s fatal flaw.

People live. People love. People die.

She knows this.

But this, this is different.

This time, she is terrified.

This time, it’s everyone left that she could ever love in one place, one battle.

She’s having a difficult time disconnecting from that.

Gendry shifts beside her, moving so that his fingertips are brushing her bare thigh so, so lightly. She doesn’t know how he’s able to sleep so soundly. Quite frankly, she envies it. They all need as much rest as they can get before tomorrow.

His hand shifts so that his whole palm now rests on top of her thigh, and she shivers inadvertently, feeling warmth radiate from his hand that she knows isn’t just the transfer of body heat. 

Gods, she hopes he doesn’t die tomorrow.

She’s never liked to think passed events like the one she knows is quickly approaching. She’s learned that any distraction could be detrimental in moments such as these. Besides, her belief in the chance of survival has begun to quiver like never before.

But for one moment, she closes her eyes and lets herself imagine.

She imagines that the battle is won.

She imagines that they all live, her and Jon and Sansa and Bran and and and-

And Gendry.

It shocks her how quickly he’s risen up in her evaluation of importance.

She imagines that nights like tonight will repeat, over and over and over again.

She can’t imagine a clear future, but what she can imagine is him next to her.

It’s that thought that shakes her from her dream-like state.

When did she become so soft? And for Gendry, no less?

She turns her head to look at him, watches his chest rise and fall with even, steady breath. 

She is terrified.

She is terrified that the next time she sees him, no breath will accompany.

Or the next time she sees Sansa.

Or Jon.

Or Bran.

Arya Stark has never been scared of winter. She’s never been scared of anything, really. Frightened, perhaps, but never a fear that paralyzes her to think of.

This may be the closest that she’s ever felt.

She leans forward, making sure that he’s still asleep, and presses her lips ever so softly to his forehead. It’s a gesture too gentle, too sweet, and so she only lets herself linger for a couple of seconds before pulling away again. 

She wants to stay in this moment, as much as she’s always been one to seek adrenaline rushes and to be itching to get out onto a battlefield.

She wants to soak this in, let it steep in her mind so it can never ever be erased.

She gives herself a single moment to let her guard down, a moment just to breathe and feel and remember.

And she quickly blinks, letting the thought flow away. Two moments of stillness tonight is more than enough.

Gendry shifts again, this time moving so that his arm is draped across her chest and his chin is resting on her shoulder. She doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of having him touch her.

“Please try not to die tomorrow.” Her whisper is nearly inaudible, and she knows that she’s saying it for her benefit more than his. In fact, she doesn’t think that she would even utter the words if he was consciously listening. She’s learned that weakness is exposure, no matter what form it takes. 

And when he wakes, she’ll have her armour up once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided that I really like playing around with the idea of Arya's fear as a whole, especially now that I've seen 8x3. I think that episode did an incredible job of putting the characters in situations filled with pure terror, a type that they have never truly been privy to before, and the moments with both Arya and Sansa looking absolutely terrified in their own right has really stuck with me.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


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